Walk Without Fear -Indefinite Hiatus-
by RichardHusky
Summary: Seventeen year old Amanda Burzel wakes up from a three month coma to find that the world around her has changed for the worse. The denizens of her town have become flesh-devouring psychopaths, save a few lucky survivors. As she goes on a mission to find her sister, Ashley, she learns that the walking dead, the Eaters, aren't the most prominent problem. People are the real monsters.
1. Awakening

**Now that I'm taking a break from my Reach fanfic, I'm... not really sure what to do in the meantime...**

**How about a new story?**

**This takes place in the comic book universe, but there probably is not going to be any connection between Rick's group and the characters in this story.**

**I intended this to be a 10,000 word One-Shot at first but decided against it. Happy reading.**

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><p>I woke up with a jolt. I was in a bright room. The walls and ceiling were bright white. Where was I? I tried to sit up, but a soreness in my back stopped me from lifting myself up more than a few inches before I reeled back down in pain. I was in a bed.<p>

A hospital bed.

I lifted my arm. There was an IV going into the back of my hand. I could hear the beep of a heart monitor to my left. I couldn't remember how I got here.

Wait, no. Now I remembered. An accident. I was in an accident. My sister was driving, and then she...

Oh no.

"Ashley?" I groaned. "Ash!"

No one responded. There was no one in the room but me. I tried to sit up again, sucking in a great breath of air before clenching my teeth. The pain was intense. Tear-bringing, even. But I did manage to sit up. A wire with a button on it hung from the ceiling. Maybe if I pressed it, then a doctor could come help me or something, assuming that it was one of those buzzer things. I pressed the button, but no sound came from it. Maybe it a was silent alarm?

I turned myself painfully, hanging my feet off of the side of the bed. My long legs hung down to the floor, and the cool touch of the linoleum tile froze the bottoms of my feet. I looked around the room for a clock or something. No light shone through the windows at the top of the room, so it was obviously nighttime. A clock hung across the room from the foot of the bed. It read 7:26. The clock's hands weren't moving, the red second hand frozen in place on the twelve second mark. It was broken, clearly. I guess I wouldn't be able to figure out what the time was right now.

I tried to stand, but the pain came back, this time in my stomach. I looked down, and was startled by a plastic thing coming out of the skin.

I was on a feeding tube.

How long have I been here? I looked to a small table on my right. There were two balloons tied to a small picture frame. The picture was of my mom, my sister and me, one of the many pictures that we owned that had the three of us in it, visiting places around the country. This particular picture was us at the top of the Space Needle last year. My mom was hugging the both of us tightly, and we had gotten a stranger to take the picture with his smart phone. My sister looked a bit annoyed, but she did in every picture. She always thought that she had it rough, being the big sister, but we both knew that Mom had it rougher, what with raising us on her own and all.

I expected the two balloons to say something like "Get well soon, Amanda!" or a message that was similar. Only one of them said anything close. The other one read "Happy 17th Birthday!", and both of them were deflated. But I was sixteen. My birthday wasn't for another three months. Unless...

I stood up and limped to the window, my legs weak from not standing. The IV in my hand stopped me, so I yanked it out. I put my hands up above my eyes, blocking out the flickering fluorescent light of the room. Me and my family always moved around, and our most recent move was from New Orleans to northern Oregon, in the late Spring.

So why were there leaves all over the ground?

I looked at a mirror in the corner, and a sudden wave of realization hit me when I saw myself.

My usually shoulder length black hair stretched down to the middle of my back, wild and unkempt. My nails were an inch longer than they usually were. The patient's gown was too short to cover my knees, and the gown's chest area was uncomfortably tight, as if I had gone through a growth spurt while in the hospital.

Have I been here since Spring?

I was freaking out. Every once in a while, when I was in public or scared, I would get a panic attack and start hyperventilating. I could feel one coming on, so I closed my eyes and counted to ten. I backed up and sat back down on the bed, my thoughts rushing. Was I in a coma? What happened to my sister?

Where the heck was the doctor?

I pressed the button again, then waited a few minutes, exploring the room with my eyes. But no one ever came. I looked down at the feeding tube in my stomach. Nothing was being pumped through it, so I didn't see a use in having it anymore. The only problem was, I had no idea how to safely take it out without seriously hurting myself. I figured I could just pull carefully, and I could find someone to bandage me up after.

That was a lot easier to say than it was to do.

I grabbed the tube, wincing from the pain, and gave it a little tug. My eyes teared up, but I steeled my nerves. I could do this, and I wouldn't cry. I continued to tug. After a few minutes of light tugging and shaking of the tube, I felt it tube pull out of my stomach and watched it come out of my skin as I muffled a scream. The heartbeat monitor sped up to 120 beats per minute as I clutched my stomach, the pain shooting across my torso. I fell on to my back on the hospital bed, holding my side with both hands as blood oozed lightly from the wound. I pressed the button one last time, then painfully got up to walk out of the room.

Before I left, I grabbed the picture of my sister and mother, folded it up, and put it in my breast pocket. Something was going on in this place, and I didn't want to lose the photo.

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><p><strong>Good so far? Yes, no? I have another chapter ready and waiting.<strong>

**Have a good day, Wolfgang.**

**~Husky**


	2. Saved

I stepped out into the hallway, onto a different surface, not linoleum. It felt like...

Paper. Scattered all over the halls were random assorted papers, both bulletins for corkboards and important medical reports. Several motivational posters that I assumed were meant to be hung on the walls were on the ground as well, strewn around every few yards. A line of medical tubing lie in the middle of the hallway, obviously forgotten.

"Hello?" I asked. I cleared my throat and said it louder. "Hello?!"

No one responded. This place was dead, for sure. I was scared. I could barely control my breathing, and I thought for a second that I would begin hyperventilating again. I was a very timid person, always worried about the future and unable to talk with people outside of my immediate family without being awkward and shifty. My eyes darted around when I talked, making everything I said seem like I was lying. As I walked towards what I assumed was the direction to the front desk, I felt as though the hallway's walls were closing in on me, a side effect of my minor claustrophobia. I scrunched my skinny body inward, becoming dizzy as I rubbed my eyes.

When I reached the help desk, no one was there. The only indications that anyone had _ever_ been there were the facts that a landline phone on the wall was hanging by its cord all the way down to the ground, and, like the hallways, papers were strewn about on the floor. Down the other hallway, I could see that there was a hospital bed, tipped over. As I looked closer, I realized something.

There was a person in that hospital bed.

I rushed as fast as I could down the hallway to the bed and kneeled down, grabbing the person's shoulders. He was a heavyset African-American man, who appeared to be going bald and was strapped into the bed by black belts with notches in them. After a few moments, I let go. I took my middle and index finger and I put them against his neck, checking for a pulse.

This man was dead.

I stood up, putting my hands over my mouth. I hadn't seen it before, but lines of blood were dripping from the man's nostrils, mouth and eyes. I had read about this in Health class before, it was called a hemorrhage, I think. I realized where I had just put my hands and pulled them away from my mouth. I could feel puke rising up my esophagus, and I ran to the nearest trash can. For a moment, I thought I was fine, and turned back to the man. But the sight of him dead only strengthened my gagging, and I vomited. I coughed, my throat burning from the acidic mess, and leaned on the wall. I thought I felt more coming up after I sat down, so I was about to ready myself at the trash can again, but it was a false alarm.

As I stood up, looking at the dead man, I could have sworn that I had seen him twitch. It must have just been my imagination, though, because he wasn't moving when I looked on steady feet. Strange.

I coughed a few more times, then looked over to the front desk, on the other side of the room. Light grey base, dark grey countertop. On the top was a mug with a red cross on it, and inside of the mug were several pencils, pens, and a pair of scissors. Those would be perfect for cutting my hair and nails. I got up and walked slowly to the desk, not wanting to upset my stomach more, and picked up the scissors, to see if they were sharp. They were. I went to work on my nails, cutting them to the right length, botching the curves a bit. When I was finished, my nails were, for lack of a better term, even.

Suddenly, something behind me snapped, and I turned around, scissors still in my hand.

"Aughhhgh." The heavyset man was reaching out to me, groaning.

"Oh my god. Are you okay?" I asked, walking over to him. He didn't say anything in response, just more groaning.

I didn't know what to do. He looked like he needed serious medical help, and I wasn't going to be the one to be able to give it to him. "Uh... Uh, just... stay put! I'll find you some help." I said, turning. He grabbed my ankle, gripping it tightly.

"Hey! Let me go!" I said to him.

Suddenly, he pulled me with enough force to bring me to the ground, making me fall flat on my face. I shouted as I fell, unprepared for the sudden movement. I dropped the scissors in the process, making them slide across the floor.

I kicked his hand. "Let me go! Let... me... go!" I shouted. "Help!"

He ripped the leather strap on the hospital bed he was tied to, and fell to the ground, too. I tried to crawl towards the scissors, but he pulled me harder. His mouth opened and closed in chewing motions as he pulled, making him look terrifying, as though he wanted to eat me alive. I reached my arm out towards the scissors, but they were just inches out of reach.

"Help!" I cried.

Off in the distance, I could hear the sound of running footsteps.

"Help me!" I screamed, louder this time.

The footsteps sped up into a run, getting closer by the second. I continued to kick the heavyset man's hand, but no matter how hard I kicked him, his grip wouldn't loosen. Suddenly, a tall, Caucasian man ran around the corner, looking at me.

"Help me!" I yelled, kicking the man's hand, trying even still to loosen his grip on me. The tall man ran down the hallway at me. When he got close, I realized that he had a knife.

"What are-" I said, but before I could finish my sentence, he kicked the heavyset man in the face. Then, he raised his knife, going in for the kill.

"No!" I yelled.

The tall man stabbed his knife into the heavyset man's head, causing his arms to go limp, releasing his grip on my ankle. I screamed, a bit of blood squirting on to my gown. I backed up into the wall, breathing extremely heavy. The tall man looked at me, then down at the knife, pulling it out. As he turned to me, I covered up my face and screamed again.

"Stay away from me!" I shouted, grabbing the scissors and throwing them at him. They cut his forearm.

"Hey! Jesus!" He shouted, grabbing the wound. I ran to the desk and grabbed a pencil from the red cross cup, holding it like a shank. A pathetic defense, sure, but I didn't have anything else.

"Hey, hey!" He yelled. "Relax! I'm not trying to hurt you!"

"Stay... stay back!" I said, my nervousness overcoming me.

"Woah, okay, calm down, girl." He said.

"Quiet, you... you crazy murderer!" I said. I was terrified. He had just stabbed a man that needed help, this guy was clearly some sort of psychopath.

Although... He didn't _look_ crazy. He looked like your average guy in his early twenties, maybe even straight twenty. Short golden hair, brown eyes, honey colored stubble. But looks could be deceiving, I had learned that throughout the past few years. I stayed my hard gaze on him, watching his every movement.

After a second of watching him, making sure he didn't try anything, I spoke. "I'm going to put down the... the pencil. Put away the knife." I said. I had no leverage at all. This was certainly not my finest hour.

"Fair enough." He said, twirling the knife and sheathing it. I dropped the pencil in response. As it fell, I realized that it wasn't even sharpened. Oh, brother.

"What's your name?" He asked.

I hesitated, not wanting to tell him anything, but equally surprised that he had complied with my demand.

"Oh, come on. It isn't like I'm some sort of stalker or something, you're fine. I'm not nearly as bad as what you would find out there." He said, pointing behind himself with his thumb.

I paused, trying to decide whether or not to say a fake name. I decided against it. Really, what could be used against me if he knew my first name?

"Amanda. My name is Amanda." I said, my breathing slowly lowering to a normal pace.

"Well, hi Amanda. My name is Eric." He said, holding out his hand in a shake. "Pleased to meet you."

I didn't even attempt to shake his hand.

"Alrighty, then. Have it your way." He replied.

I let my guard down for a second, studying his facial expression. He really didn't seem like he was crazy. But why did he kill that man?

"And that," Eric said, pointing to the dead man. "Was an Eater."

"That was a _person_!" I said. "What the hell is Eater supposed to mean?!"

"It wasn't human. Not anymore, anyway." He said.

"Bullshit!" I shot back, my voice cracking.

"Woah! Take it easy on the mouth, missy!" He replied. "You have a lot of catching up to do."

"...What do you mean? What's going on here?" I asked, curious.

Eric put his hands on his hips and exhaled heavily. "Jesus, where do I begin?" He said, pondering. "I guess I should start with the Eaters."

"Stop... calling them that." I said. He said the name like they aren't Human.

"That's what I call 'em. Other people call them Biters. I've heard the name Walkers once or twice, too."

"They're people, though! Aren't they?" I asked.

"They were, at some point. No one knows how this thing started, but when you get bit, you turn into one of them." Eric continued. "It takes hours, sometimes days, but if you do get bit, there's no stopping it. You get a terrible fever, you get dehydrated, then you die. After that, you come back as one of them. I've seen it happen."

"But... but why didn't the government stop it?" I asked. "Why didn't they try to contain it?"

"I'm sure they did. But it wasn't enough. Government's gone, and the only rules out here are whatever the most evil sonofabitch in the immediate vicinity says they are." He replied. "How long did you say you've been here?" Eric asked.

"I didn't." I replied. "All I know is, I've been here for at least three months."

"Damn. How'd that happen?" He asked.

"Car crash. I was in a coma, I think." I replied. "I need to find my sister."

"Slow down. Don't go off on your own, now." Eric said, grabbing my arm lightly as I tried to step past him. I shook off his hand and took another step.

"You won't survive out there on your own." Eric said. "Do you even know your way outta this hospital?"

I hesitated. I didn't know this guy, no matter how mentally stable he seemed. But the way he had described those... Eaters... was horrible. And if he was telling the truth... about the outside...

I turned around, facing him. "No... I don't." I said, sighing.

He nodded. "Then I guess that you had better come with me." Eric said, waving me towards him. He grabbed the scissors I had previously thrown at him and handed them to me. "Cut your hair, the Eaters can grab it."

I grabbed my unkempt hair into a ponytail and cut at least a half foot off, letting it drift to the floor.

Eric shook his head. "You're gonna have to cut shorter than that. Hand me the scissors." He said. I passed the scissors back to him, and he stood behind me. He cut my hair to my usual shoulder length, but as I tried to step away, he continued.

After he was done, a large amount of my hair sat in a clump on the floor. I looked at myself in the glass of the window. My hair was very short and pixie-like, and the cuts were even. I brushed my hand through my hair, and felt good. I rather liked this hairstyle, as no hair covered my eyes.

"Thanks." I said.

"No problem." Eric replied. We exchanged a moment of silence as I felt my hair, bending down to get a better look. I looked up at Eric in the reflection. He was looking at me, obviously waiting on me...

Unless...

I turned around, standing up, and slapped him. He held his face, obviously caught off guard. "What did I-" He started but stopped. "Oh, oh wait! Wait a minute!"

"I saw you looking at me like that!" I said.

"I... I didn't mean to?" He said, incredulous.

"You were staring at my ass! Of course you meant to!" I shot back. "I'm only seventeen, you know."

His eyes widened. "Listen, I didn't-" He started. But I stopped him.

"Forget it! Never mind. Just... drop it." I said. He was stuttering, trying to give an explanation, but he just gave up, itching his neck in embarrassment. I honestly wasn't that mad, but I thought it was kind of funny how he just broke down like that.

Of course, he wasn't bad looking, himself...

"We should find you some new clothes." He said. "Just uh, so you don't have to wear that gown anymore, I mean."

"Right." I said. I looked down at the gown. It was at least one size too small, and very tight. "Let's go see if there's anything else around here I can put on."

"Yeah... I'll... just be right in front of you, then." He said, walking ahead, red in the face.

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><p>After a few minutes of searching, Eric found me a pair of pants and a sweater. "It's getting cold, you might as well wear this." He said. The sweater looked familiar, but I couldn't remember the design. I thought my sister had a sweater kind of like it, but I could have been wrong. The pants were jeans, black, with a single copper button and zipper. They fit me snugly, as did the sweater. I made sure to take the photo of me and my family in Seattle out of the gown and slip it into my pants pocket for safekeeping. I discarded the gown, throwing it off to the side. As I emerged from the room I had been changing in, Eric was twirling his knife around, stopping when he saw me come out.<p>

"You look good." He said, thinking about his words before he said them.

"Thanks." I said with a grin on my face. I could tell he was still embarrassed about earlier, but at least he was sorry. Boys from my school were jackasses, and they would blatantly stare at me.

"Right." He said. He cleared his throat. "Let's get moving."

As I walked, I observed my clothing. The sweater _was_ very familiar, I was right. I couldn't place it though. As I stepped, I realized I wasn't wearing shoes. I looked at the bottoms of my feet.

Then, something caught my eye. There was a little tear on the ankle of these pants. It didn't look accidental, it looked deliberate. It reminded me of something.

Then, it hit me.

These were my sister's clothes.

"Where did you get these clothes?!" I yelled. Eric was startled by my sudden shouting. He shushed me, putting his hand over my mouth and pushing me up against the wall.

"The Eaters have excellent hearing. If there are any more in this hospital, they sure as hell heard that." He said.

"I don't care!" I said, pushing his rough hand off of my lips. "Where did you get these clothes?!"

"From down the hall, third door on the right. Does it matter?" He asked.

I pushed past him, running down the hall. These were my sister's pants, and her sweater. She had been wearing this outfit a few days before the crash. I rushed towards the right side of the hall and began to check the names. After a few seconds, I stumbled on her name.

**_Burzel,_**** Ashley**

I pushed the door open as hard as I could. I could hear Eric running back down the hall after me. I looked at the hospital bed, but no one was lying in it.

"What's the big idea?" He asked, stopping in the doorway. I was frantically searching the room for any sign of my sister, but I came up with nothing.

"This is my sister's room!" I said, pulling up the sheets. Eric had a surprised look on his face, walking into the room. A piece of paper was tucked under the pillows. I pulled it out and unfolded it.

"What is it?" He asked.

"It's a note." I said. I began to read.

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><p><strong><em>Dear Amanda,<em>**

**_I've left to go find mom. I don't know what happened here, but I want to find out. If you find this, meet me at the new house, I'll try to be there._**

**_Wake up soon, little bear._**

**_-Ashley_**

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><p>My sister was alive. I felt reassured by that.<p>

"What did it say?" Eric asked.

"My sister is alive. She says she's waiting for me, back at the house." I said in reply. "But I have no idea when this was written. It could have been today, or weeks ago."

"Let me take a look." Eric said. I handed him the note. He rubbed his thumb across the paper, and the ink smudged a bit. "This ink is still wet."

"Then when was it written?" I asked, my heart filling with hope.

"Recently. I'm no expert, so don't quote me on this, but I would say it was written within the past twenty-four hours." He said.

"She could still be there!" I said. "We need to go, now."

"Hold your horses!" Eric said. "It's still nighttime, don't run yourself into the ground. You don't know what its like out there, and it's dark. An Eater could get the drop on you. Get some sleep."

"I've been unconscious for the past three months, I'm good on sleep right now." I said. But after I said it, I knew I was kidding only myself. I hadn't stopped to realize how tired I was, what with all that was happening.

"Trust me. You'll need the rest." He said. "When was the last time you ate something?"

"I've been on a feeding tube since I was here," I said. "But when I woke up, it wasn't operating."

"Ill go see if no one has raided the vending machines." Eric said. "Just sit tight."

As he left the room, my eyelids started to droop. I decided to take a little nap, just a short one, while he was gone. Just to rest my eyes.

Just for a little while.


	3. Hunted

"Amanda!" Someone yelled. My eyes fluttered open. A man was standing over me, shaking me. I sat up with a jolt, frightened at first, but I realized that it was only Eric.

"What...?" I said, sitting up and rubbing my eyes. "Why are you yelling?"

"We have to go! Now!" He said. The blast of a shotgun echoed loudly down the hallway nearby. Eric grabbed my arm and pulled me out of the bed, pushing the door open.

"How long was I out?"

"A few minutes. Just come on!"

Not only was I hungry, but I was still tired. There was another blast, closer than the first. Then, the sound of a machine gun. "What's going on?!" I asked.

"Bandits." Eric said, waving me towards him, away from the sound of the gunshots.

"What do you mean Bandits?!" I said.

A shotgun slug exploded into the wall just a few feet behind me, and blood splattered in tiny drops on the pristine white wall. I yelped, jumping and sending my feet into motion. Eric ran down the hall, and I followed without another word. I certainly didn't want to stick around for the people with guns to find me.

"I mean _Bandits_. There are a lot of them out in these parts. They're mostly just thugs and anarchists, but if they get a hold of weapons, they're killers. After I went to get you something from the vending machines, I saw them coming up on the front door. They saw me, and I ran." He said. We stopped at a corner and hid at the other end of the hall from where the gunshots were coming from, near my room. "Oh yeah. Almost forgot." Eric said, reaching into his pocket. He pulled out a pack of Twinkies. "Eat this."

I took the pack of Twinkies and put them in my pocket for later. "Honestly, I don't want to die with a snack cake in my mouth!" I said. "How are we going to get out of here?"

"_Where'd you go off to, pretty boy?_" An angry voice shouted from down the hall.

"Shh." Eric said, putting his fingers to my lips. He peered around the corner slowly, as to get a better look. As soon as he put his head around the corner, the part of the wall directly above his face filled with buckshot, exploding into a flurry of wood and paint chips. "Jesus!" He whispered.

"_Nowhere to run!_" A different voice shouted, higher pitched than the last. "_Come on out!_"

"What the hell do they want?" I asked.

"Everything that we don't have, I'm sure. Food, water, medicine... the works." Eric responded. "Either that, or they're just looking for somebody to kill. I don't that a Twinkie will calm their nerves, either. There's only two of them, but _they_ have guns. We're going to have to make a break for it."

"Where's an exit?" I asked.

"Well..." Eric said as another slug hit the wall next to him, followed by more yelling between the two men. "We sure as hell can't take the front way out. They've got it locked down."

"Well, where did they come in?" I asked.

"Side entrance. But we would have to fight through them to get to it, besides the fact that a face full of bullets isn't the best thing to wake up to in the morning. The right wing is a safer way out, it's the way I came in."

"_Dave, behind you!_" The first Bandit said.

"_Oh, shit! Fuckin' Biters!_" The other Bandit, Dave, exclaimed. Gunfire echoed through the air. Eric rapped my shoulder with his knuckle lightly.

"Now's our chance. Move it!" He said. He ran across the four foot wide gap in the hallway, and motioned for me to follow. I looked around the corner, then followed. The Bandits were fighting a small group of Eaters, or Biters as they were calling them, and weren't looking. I ran across, too, and Eric looked as well, double checking to see if their attention was still on the Eaters. He nodded, breathing heavily. "Okay. Let's go." He said. We sped down the hallway and turned right, entering a corridor that stretched out further than the one connecting to the lobby. We kept running. By the time that we had reached the end of the hall, the one of the men had stopped yelling. The other one was yelling profane exclamations and firing his shotgun. Dave must have been killed by the Eaters, leaving the other, bigger Bandit alone.

"_Shit, boy! Where'd you run off to?_" the remaining Bandit yelled. He had noticed Eric's disappearance, meaning he didn't know about me, yet. Good.

We reached the end of the hall, but there were hospital beds and other assorted furniture blocking the way. "Shit! We aren't in the right hall!" Eric said. "But I could have sworn-"

"_Where are you, little fish?!_" The Bandit yelled. He was getting closer, almost at the end of the hall.

"Hide!" Eric hissed, pushing me into an open room. He was about to hide, too, but the Bandit rounded the corner too quickly. I peered through a crack in the door, to see outside.

"There you are, pretty boy." He said, dropping his shotgun on the ground. The chamber was empty, and there were no slugs in the gun. The Bandit walked slowly towards Eric, looking more menacing with each step. He was a large, burly man, with thick greying hair and a beard, fit for a Viking, of the same color. He was wearing a thick looking black leather jacket and blue jeans, splattered with blood drops from the Eaters. Or humans, I couldn't tell. His yellow teeth clenched together as Eric drew his knife, holding it up without fear. The Bandit cracked his knuckles and spit a wad of phlegm on the floor, grinning. He pulled out, from his belt, an even bigger knife. Eric's facial expression faltered for a moment, but he regained his courageous stare and stance. He looked at me through the crack in the door, mentioning me to back up.

"Who's that you're talking to?" The Bandit asked, approaching even closer. "Someone in there?"

"No. No one. Only me." Eric replied. He was going to get himself killed by this guy, protecting me like he was.

The Bandit smirked. "I guess I'll have to find out for myself." He said, raising the knife and lunging.

Eric dodged the stab, but was hit in the face with the Bandit's clenched fist, knocking him to the floor. He tried regaining his balance, but the Bandit kicked him in the chest, knocking the wind out of him and causing him to drop his knife. It landed near my door. The Bandit kicked him again. I stepped out of the room to face him, but Eric looked at me with pleading eyes, pain evident in his gaze. He wanted me to run.

I shook my head and grabbed the knife from the ground. I had never stabbed anyone before, or at least not on purpose, and my hands were trembling furiously. I took a giant step forward and raised the knife up, ready to stab the Bandit in the back. But I hesitated. He kicked Eric again, but saw my shadow and stopped. The Bandit whipped around and grabbed my wrist with a grip that matched that of a vice.

"Well, well. What have we here?" He asked, crushing my wrist and forcing me to drop the knife. It clattered to the floor as I struggled to pull away from him, but his grip just got tighter. He sheathed his own knife and grabbed my other arm, pushing me against the wall and hurting my arms.

"You and me," The Bandit said. "We're gonna have some fun."

"No!" I shouted. I kicked him in the crotch, and he loosened his grip. I pulled away and began to run, but I ran right into a hospital bed, nearly falling over. I turned around just in time for him to grab my throat and push me against the bed.

"Hold still, girlie!" He said, reaching for my pants zipper. I kicked at him, but it didn't faze him. He smacked me in my face as hard as he could and began pulling at my pants. I looked towards Eric. He was trying to get up, trying to reach for the knife. He looked terrible.

"Get the fuck off of me!" I shouted. "Get off!"

"Shut the fuck up!" He yelled. He started pulling up my shirt, but he let go of my arm to do it. I grabbed his hand and bit his thumb as hard as I could, drawing blood. He shouted, trying to hit me again.

"You got a lot of fight in you, girl!" He yelled. "I like it when they fight!"

"Then you're going to _love_ me." Eric said.

He reached up, grabbing the Bandit's chin, and sliced a giant cut across his neck. It surprised me so much that I screamed.

Blood spilled from the Bandit's neck as he collapsed backwards, crying out in pain. Eric turned and pushed the Bandit against the wall, stabbing him in the chest repeatedly. I screamed with every stab, covering my eyes from the blood that was spurting in every direction. Eric plunged the knife into the Bandit on more time, letting him slide to the ground, leaving a streak of blood on the wall. I uncovered my eyes, heart racing and close to hyperventilating, and saw the sight of the dead Bandit. Eric looked at the Bandit with wide eyes, then backed up into the wall, sliding down into a sitting position just as the dead Bandit had moments ago. He threw the knife down to his side, holding his head in one hand as he held his chest with the other.

"Are... are you okay, Amanda?" Eric asked, looking at me. I swallowed my fear and tried to regain control of my breathing.

"Are you?" I asked.

There was blood all over his clothes, on his face and in his hair. He was getting a bit of blood on his fingers just from running his hand across his head.

"No. No, I'm not." Eric replied.

We stayed silent for a few minutes, just holding ourselves and thinking. Eric buried his head in his hands, and I just stared at the Bandit.

And we sat there for quite a long time.


End file.
